


You're My Cup of Coffee

by HardNoctLife



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Caffeine Addiction, Caffeine Withdrawal, Domestic, Domestic Boyfriends, Established Relationship, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, Gay, Gay Sex, Gladnis, M/M, Romance, Sex, That good shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 16:22:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19794571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HardNoctLife/pseuds/HardNoctLife
Summary: Ignis craves coffee. In fact, he can barely function without it.His boyfriend, Gladio Amicitia, figures this out the hard way, and in the process of learning the ins-and-outs of Ignis's morning routine, discovers an entirely different type of a withdrawal unrelated to caffeine.





	1. Just Coffee

**Author's Note:**

  * For [frecklef0x](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frecklef0x/gifts).



> "Prompt: Sometimes you just gotta have it. What is “it”? We often think of craving in relation to food, but it can be anything: intoxicants, attention, validation, touch, or affection. Nearly anything can be desired intensely as to be craved. Write about a time your character craved something, how they went about getting it, and what happened after. Why was it so important, anyway?" 
> 
> frecklef0x requested Gladio x Ignis, and I wrote this fic after scrapping four different Gladnis drabbles. I asked a friend for some inspiration, and she was kind enough to share some of her Gladnis headcanons, sending me this gem:
> 
> “One of my sappy favs is Ignis being super grumpy at the grocery store griping over the coffees being mislabeled and Gladio suddenly realizing in that moment he wants to spend his entire life with this irritable, coffee deprived person.” 
> 
> This text combined with the prompt above gave life to what you see here, the majority of which was written in the late hours of the night and early morning—which seems ironically fitting now that I think about it. 
> 
> So—this story is dedicated to Kara and Claudia, my friends and fellow Gladnis shippers. May you find a love as strong and bold as your cup of morning coffee.

“It’s just coffee,” Gladio said as he pressed his money to the diner counter—and Ignis slapped his hand down so fast over the coins that Gladio wasn’t the only one who jumped. The waitress had her arm held out to take the payment for the order, and was now frozen in mid-reach, her eyes darting between Gladio and Ignis nervously.

“ _Just_ coffee?” Ignis demanded, voice rising. He sounded like Gladio had said something so vile that he could hardly stand to be seen with him, let alone admit they were romantically involved. “Thank you, but that will be all,” Ignis said to the server dismissively, and she scurried away, casting glances back at them over her shoulder as she became suddenly busy elsewhere.

“I will brew you some at home. I promise you; it will be superior in every way.” Ignis’s words were smooth, cutting, and surprisingly sexy.

Gladio secretly enjoyed when he used his ‘advisor’ voice. Something about Ignis taking control of a situation was a major turn on—and honestly, just plain _fun_ to watch.

In this instance however, Gladio was too surprised to be amused. He and Ignis had been dating for just under a year and he had recently moved into Ignis’s apartment near the Citadel. As a result, he was beginning to discover a side of his boyfriend that he had never seen before.

Primarily, that Ignis took his coffee _very_ seriously.

* * *

Every morning Ignis’s alarm would chime at six o’ clock. Gladio would roll over, listening as Ignis climbed into the shower. Sometimes the sound of the water running would lull him back to sleep, but more often than not he would try to stay awake to see Ignis step out of the bathroom. It was worth it to see his hair damp and messy, glasses-less and _soft_ —before the royal advisor put on the mask he presented to the rest of the world.

Naked was how Gladio liked Ignis best—without any pretense. His boyfriend would pad across the carpet and lean down to plant one firm kiss to Gladio’s forehead, his sign that it was time to get up, and Ignis would fight off the hands that so often grabbed at his bare hips, chuckling at Gladio’s whispered pleas of ‘just five more minutes’ as he tried in vain to pull Ignis back under the duvet.

The one time Ignis had caved to his early morning demands they had both been late to Crownsguard’s training, something that still mortified Ignis whenever Gladio brought up the memory.

 _Gladiolus, my hair was an absolute_ mess _and everyone_ knew _what we had been up to!_

Truth be told, he had _wanted_ everyone to know. Ignis Scientia, one of the Crownsguard’s youngest members, advisor to the Prince of Lucis, and the most intelligent, attractive, and skilled person he knew, was _his_ boyfriend.

Sometimes, Gladio felt like he was living in a fairytale.

Then, Ignis would gripe about the quality of the coffee at a restaurant, and he was abruptly reminded of just how _human_ he was.

After the royal advisor had dressed for work, he would make his way into the kitchen to whip up breakfast and brew the coffee. Gladio would wander in, wearing only his favorite gray sweatpants, and would sit on the edge of the counter to watch.

When he first moved in to Ignis’s apartment, Gladio had felt compelled to help, but it became quickly apparent that Ignis had his routine down to a science. Without having to say a word, Ignis communicated that Gladio was in the way. Sometimes it was in how he bumped their shoulders together or muttered an ‘excuse me’ under his breath to reach around him, but mostly it was with the tight-lipped expression he made—the same look he displayed whenever he was irritated and trying not to let it show. Gladio could tell he was biting back whatever it was he wanted to say, so one day, he decided to take a seat and watch instead of participating.

From that day forward, he saw Ignis’s true smile take up permanent residence on his face whenever he was in the kitchen.

Gladio would sip the freshly pressed coffee from the mug Ignis had bought him as a ‘move-in gift,’ jet black porcelain with a white engraving of the Crownsguard insignia.

But the coffee wasn’t the only thing that warmed him from the inside-out.

There was something in the way Ignis moved, like the captain of a ship, that absolutely captivated him. Gladio would sit and watch Ignis until he reached the bottom of his cup, devouring whatever tasty morsel the prince’s advisor seemed to magic out of thin air before reluctantly returning to his room to get ready for the day.

On rare occasions they were able to attend work together, but oftentimes they were on opposite schedules, Ignis being whisked off to see to all of Noctis’s wants and needs and Gladio reporting to his commanding officer to complete whatever task was required of him for the day. There were many nights that they would get home late and go immediately to bed, passing out as soon as their heads hit the pillows, totally exhausted.

One thing that remained ever constant in their lives, however, was their morning ritual.

And so, Gladio learned, it wasn’t _just_ coffee.

It was home—and therefore, it was quintessentially Ignis.

* * *

Their first fight, believe it or not, was over coffee.

“ _Gladiolus.”_

Gladio shuddered awake, disoriented, and panicked, thinking he must have overslept. Then he remembered it was Saturday, which meant he had the day off, and he squinted through his groggy haze to where Ignis was looming over him, all the more menacing thanks to the dark bags drooping under his eyes.

“Where are the coffee beans I asked you to pick up at the grocery?”

The question was clipped— _succinct_ —and eerily devoid of intonation.

Gladio racked his brain, still foggy from sleep, and vaguely remembered that Ignis had told him to grab a few things on his way home from work the night before. He had stayed late at the training hall to spar with Cor and had headed straight back to the apartment afterwards, forgetting the errand he had promised to run.

Now Ignis was glaring down at him, eyes more pointed than the tips of his daggers. Gladio felt certain body parts curling into him out of fear, and he cleared his throat.

“I, uh…sorry, I forgot.”

Ignis took one very slow inhalation and Gladio’s body tensed, bracing for impact.

“I see.”

Gladio had never known someone could pack so much feeling into two words.

There was disappointment, and maybe some desperation—but also a seething, dark _rage_ that Gladio had never been on the receiving end of. It was as if a shadow had fallen over Ignis’s entire demeanor, transforming him into an entirely different person.

And that person was an absolute daemon.

“Get dressed. We’re going to the store.”

Ignis exited the room before Gladio had a chance to defend himself, leaving him alone to recover from the brutal emotional whirlwind that he had unleashed.

_What the hell just happened?_

Mystified, Gladio dressed for the bitter winter chill, throwing on several layers and his thicker pair of boots. When he made it out of the bedroom, Ignis was waiting by the front door, arms folded impatiently. The prince’s advisor trained his eyes on Gladio, making the larger man shiver in spite of his warm clothing.

Ignis didn’t speak when he climbed into the driver’s seat of the car, and Gladio found himself gripping the door handle when Ignis took the turns a little too fast or cut off other drivers without warning, foot pressing down on an invisible brake. It took Ignis running a red light for Gladio to finally speak up.

“Hey, Iggy, why don’t you slow down a bit?”

Ignis slammed on the brakes suddenly, throwing Gladio forward so that his seatbelt locked, pulling tight against his chest.

“Shit—Ignis, what the _hell_?” Gladio growled in alarm, hands splayed against the window beside him as if to stop himself from going through it.

“Would you care to drive?” Ignis asked, and suddenly his words were dripping with honey, but Gladio knew a trap when he saw one and stayed silent. “No? I thought not.” Gladio gaped at Ignis as he sank back in his seat and the car rolled forward, picking up speed again.

Neither of them spoke for the remainder of the short trip to the grocery store, and as soon as the vehicle stopped, Ignis was out of the cab, long legs carrying him across the parking lot before Gladio had even unbuckled his seatbelt.

“Hey!” Gladio called after him, hurrying to keep up. He found Ignis in the coffee aisle, studying the cylindrical containers critically, glasses clinging precariously to the end of his nose.

If he didn’t think Ignis might break his fingers, he would have reached over and pushed them up for him as he sometimes did.

Time passed slowly, each minute stretching into an eternity. Ignis huffed every so often, muttering to himself as he studied each set of beans with meticulous scrutiny.

A woman dressed in the tell-tale signs of an employee uniform was coming towards them from the opposite end of the aisle, but Gladio saw her too late to wave her away. He cringed when she greeted them, a smile plastered on her face.

“Hello gentlemen, are you finding everything all right?”

“Oh, yeah—”

“Actually, now that you mention it, no, we certainly are not.” Gladio cringed as the smile slid off the worker, replaced with distressed confusion. “Can you tell me where your Altissian breakfast blend is? Some of these tins are not labeled correctly and I am having difficulty locating it.” The prince’s Shield watched as Ignis leveled the girl with a stony glare.

“Well—if it’s not out, we might be out of stock.”

Gladio thought for a moment that Ignis might shed his skin to reveal that he was in fact a malboro, spewing his poisonous venom in the employee’s direction, but instead he smiled tightly.

“That would be quite egregious, indeed. Would you be a dear—” His eyes flitted over her nametag. “Eliza—and confirm with your manager?” the advisor inquired with forced politeness that wasn’t fooling anyone.

 _He’s pissed_ , Gladio thought in bewilderment.

“O-of course,” she stuttered, rushing to obey his request. Gladio waited until the girl had turned the corner before blowing out the breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

“ _Wow._ ” He ran a hand through his hair. “Easy, Iggy. It’s not her fault, y’know. If you’re going to be mad, be mad at me.”

Gladio had never felt small during the course of his lifetime. In fact, he had always been the biggest kid he knew at any age, but the slow turn followed by the look Ignis gave him made him shrink to less than half his size, and he suddenly had the feeling he was looking up at his boyfriend instead of the other way around.

It was a look that said, _I am quite cross with you, Gladiolus Amicitia—now take a number and wait your turn._

All the air had been sucked out of the atmosphere, and Gladio was ashamed to admit he broke eye contact first, looking everywhere that wasn’t directly at his hypotensive daemon boyfriend.

Eliza quickly returned with a middle-aged man in tow who looked less than amused to be torn away from his other _very_ important managerial duties to deal with a dissatisfied customer.

“Sir, I’m sorry, but we don’t have the Altissian Blend in stock, but we have plenty of other coffees to choose from—as you can see,” the man said. Gladio detected a hint of sarcasm in the manager’s tone, and a stone settled heavily in the pit of his stomach.

He didn’t need to look at Ignis to feel the heat that was rolling off of him.

“Ah. Is that so? Peculiar that with my _excellent_ vision I wasn’t able to discern any other noteworthy blends—considering they are all _horribly_ mislabeled without any semblance of organization. Yes, I suppose I will just have to make a selection from the subpar stock you have chosen to provide for purchase, forgoing the only coffee worth having in this _gods-forsaken_ city!” Ignis’s voice was carrying, and heads were poking into the aisle, curious onlookers gathering to see what the commotion was about. “ _You_ sir, call yourself a supervisor over this establishment? Positively laughable! I will be taking my business elsewhere!”

Gladio looked over his shoulder in dismay, locating the nearest exit in the event a fight broke out. He didn’t think Ignis would result to physical violence, but then again, he’d never seen him like _this_. 

“Sir, if you insist on causing a scene, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” the man said, mouth twisting into an angry frown. The other employee was half-cowering behind him and eyeing Ignis as if he were a rabid animal.

Gladio could sympathize.

“We were just leaving,” Gladio assured him, keeping his voice calm and even. “Come on, Ignis, let’s _go_.” Gladio made a grab for Ignis’s arm, but the advisor was quicker, pulling away at the last second.

“Don’t _manhandle_ me.” Then, lifting his chin like a petulant child, Ignis stormed away, once again leaving Gladio to marvel at what had just occurred.

“Sorry about that. He _really_ needs his coffee in the morning.”

Gladio met up with Ignis at the car where the man had his head pressed to the steering wheel, eyes closed in concentration. There was a furrow between the advisor’s brows and Gladio saw a vein in his temple pulsing. After a few moments of silence, Gladio made a suggestion.

“Hey, let’s go to that café you like down at the plaza. We can grab coffee and breakfast there—how does that sound?”

Ignis straightened slowly and Gladio did his best to look innocent and unintimidating.

The man’s eyes panned down Gladio’s body, then blinked once, then once more.

“Very well,” he finally conceded, albeit reluctantly.

“Want me to drive?” Gladio was hopeful.

“Not a chance.”

* * *

Gladio had learned since then. He bought coffee beans in bulk now, and whenever the stores were low on the blends Ignis preferred, he made sure to special order them ahead of time so they never ran out.

Winter changed to spring, and spring to summer—but the ritual of sharing coffee over breakfast stayed the same.

Their two-year anniversary was coming up, and for once their hectic schedules had aligned, giving them an entire weekend of bliss together with nothing on their to-do lists.

This time, when Gladio’s fingers dug into the toned muscles of Ignis’s thighs to pull him back to bed, he didn’t fight him, instead slipping under the comforter in one swift motion. Their firm bodies pressed together in earnest, mouths meeting—weeks of tension dissolving.

“You’re a hard man to pin down,” Gladio moaned as Ignis straddled him and reached for the lube they kept in the nightstand.

“You merely need to hold me in the right places. Perhaps you need more practice, hm?” Gladio grinned at Ignis’s cheeky smirk and placed his hands behind his head to watch his boyfriend go to work.

Everything Ignis did was fluid and thorough—and his lovemaking was no different, with the exception of their first time.

The first time was messy, but wasn’t it always? They had been nervous— _excited_ —and maybe just a tad bit awkward, if they were being honest. Years of familiarity should have made it seem like a natural next step in their pursuit of intimacy, but instead it had been a barrier they needed to overcome.

_This is my best friend—I can’t afford to screw this up!_

There was a lot to lose if things didn’t work out, but Ignis, in typical fashion, had known exactly what to say.

“Stop acting like a schoolgirl and stick your cock in me,” he had growled mid-make out, frustrated by the slow pace Gladio had set and how he was treating him like glass that would break.

Gladio had laughed so hard that he _cried_ (and it had taken them over an hour to work back up to where they had left off).

The advisor to the crown prince had told him very bluntly to fuck him, and who was he to say no?

That was the point that they had stopped hiding from one another, falling into perfect sync.

Now, everything was second nature. They lost track of whose hands were whose, eager to be the one to make the other come first—wrestling for the fun of it, kissing wherever their mouths would reach. Gladio loved when Ignis tangled his fingers through his hair, pulling just enough to create tension.

Ignis liked to feel Gladio’s teeth brush ever-so-slightly across his earlobe—his inner thigh—his nipple, and then to feel the solidness of the Shield’s legs squeezing around him with every passionate thrust, forward and back, in and out.

Gladio lived for Ignis’s breathy moans—the heavily accented _fuck_ ’s that slipped out of his pretty mouth, usually so composed and proper.

When they were spent, they would lace their fingers together and Ignis would lay his cheek on Gladio’s chest, listening to his heartbeat until it slowed, drifting to-and-from dreams.

Gladio lived for those in-between moments, when the world was only theirs.

Coffee tasted better after sex. _Everything_ did—so when they finally uncurled their limbs and arms from where they had gotten stuck, they would meander into the kitchen. Gladio would whistle when Ignis would cook in nothing except an apron, brazenly slapping his ass after grabbing their mugs from where they sat on the shelf. 

After they had taken their first sips of coffee, and before the food had finished, Gladio would pull Ignis into his arms and push him against the countertop, his sweats sagging down to his knees as he fucked him again.

The toast would burn, and Ignis would complain, but not until _much_ later.

They’d shower together and time would escape them. Gladio intentionally dropped the soap just to make Ignis bend over, but Ignis knew how to play his games—and usually won. 

By noon they’d finally pull their pajamas on and cuddle together on the couch.

It was one of those days, and they had just put a wacky gameshow on in the background, when Gladio thought to ask a question that had been in the back of his mind for months.

“Hey Iggy? Why do you like coffee so much?”

Ignis was resting with his back to Gladio’s chest, head tucked under the Shield’s chin as they stretched out on the couch, feet skimming the opposite armrest. He pulled the blanket snugly around them in response to Gladio’s question, contemplative.

“Ah, well…” Ignis seemed to be collecting his thoughts. Gladio waited patiently, watching the contours of the advisor’s face soften as he started to speak. “When I was very young, before I had met Noctis even, my parents went missing. They had gone on a political envoy to Accordo by order of His Majesty and never returned.” Gladio’s hands curled as he listened. “I cannot remember very much about them otherwise, but I do remember the _smell_. Whenever I woke up and the scent of fresh brewed coffee would hit my nose, I knew my parents had returned from whatever journey they had embarked upon. I’d jump out of bed to meet them, as happy as if it were a festival day. Not a moment went by that the smell didn’t linger in the house, and I suppose I carried that love into my adulthood.”

Ignis leaned his head back to look up. Gladio inhaled, struck by the vibrancy of the green in his eyes. “Perhaps it’s silly, but it’s the only memory of them I have left.”

“It’s not silly,” Gladio whispered adamantly, arms coiling around Ignis as if he were a snake. After a brief moment of hesitation, he added, “I lost my mom when I was little, too. Back when she was alive, I remember her cooking in the kitchen. She’d sit me on the counter and laugh at me when I snuck food fresh off the rack. Just—shit that made your mouth _water_ , y’know? My dad smiled a lot more then. We all did. When she died…” Ignis half-turned to face Gladio, hands resting on his chest lightly.

“…everything changed. Dad wasn’t around as much, and I had to pick up the slack and take care of Iris. She was just a baby and I had no idea what I was doing. We had _a lot_ of Cup Noodles. I had to learn to fend for myself.” Gladio tried to laugh and end on a light-hearted note, but something was stuck in his throat and he found himself blinking away moisture from the corner of his eyes, chin lifting to keep it from falling.

“Being with you every morning—sharing that passion of yours. I love it.”

Silent and sure, Ignis brought his mouth to the backs of Gladio’s eyelids as they slid shut, kissing away the tears.

“So, yeah,” Gladio said as he cleared his throat. “I don’t think it’s silly at all.”

When he opened his eyes, Ignis was still watching him, face shining with pure adoration, not a trace of judgement to be found. Gladio felt his breath catch, and an electric thrill shot through him.

With his heart speeding like a runaway train, he knew then—

_This is the man I want to spend the rest of my life with._

* * *

The morning there wasn’t any coffee, Gladio knew things had gotten bad.

Three years. Over one thousand and ninety-five days together. How had it come to this?

At first, Gladio just blamed it on the fact that they were both busy. Noctis was in his final year of high school, which meant more demands were being placed on the young prince, and by extension, on Ignis. The advisor would get up earlier and go to bed later, but he always made sure there was food in the fridge and a carafe of coffee waiting for Gladio whenever he woke up.

They communicated in post-it notes and text messages.

 _Good morning sunshine. Have a lovely day –_ was affixed to his cup in Ignis’s scrawling script, everything set out so he could find it without having to search.

Gladio would jot a reply and leave it on the counter to be found at whatever gods-awful hour the advisor would come home—sometimes not until the wee hours of the morning.

_Good night Iggy, I love you._

But they saw each other less and less as the months dragged on. Gladio was earning recognition in the Crownsguard and had been promoted, as was to be expected of the future King’s Shield. There were more meetings with Gladio’s father, Clarus, and members of the Kingsglaive, and Gladio would try not to look at his watch as the appointments stretched past dinnertime and into the night.

Gladio started sleeping through Ignis’s alarms.

There was no playful tug-of-war at dawn. No casual touches as they passed one another—and one morning, no coffee.

Gladio thought it had to have been a mistake, but Ignis didn’t make mistakes, so he looked high and low, unfamiliar with his own kitchen simply due to the fact that Ignis _always_ handled mornings. It was kind of his thing. But the coffee pot was indeed empty, and Gladio’s mug sat alone on the shelf that had become its home, untouched. There was no explanation given, no note of apology.

Gladio didn’t make any coffee for himself that morning, reassuring himself that Ignis was human and had probably just forgotten. They’d _both_ been under a lot of stress, after all.

He had gotten a headache two hours before noon and went to the Crownsguard mess hall, taking an earlier lunch break than usual.

“One black coffee,” he grunted to the cafeteria worker. The liquid shone on top, reminding him of oil, and he gulped down the bitter beverage like a shot, thinking that Ignis would be absolutely appalled if he knew what he was drinking. The caffeine hit his stomach hard, making him queasy. Gladio didn’t eat after that, and the pounding in his head worsened. He went home early that day, picking up some coffee on the way home from the café they once used to frequent. The barista recognized him and smiled warmly.

“Long time no see. Where’s the boyfriend today?” she had inquired, trying to make casual conversation.

“Working,” Gladio had answered flatly. He paid in exact change and left, unable to explain his rising irritation.

The next time it happened was not long after the first occurrence. Gladio could tell by the lingering smell in the air that Ignis had made coffee for himself, but hadn’t left any for him. Annoyed, Gladio rummaged through their cabinets, pulling out beans to put in the grinder on the counter. He went through the process of making it, trying to copy what he had seen Ignis do thousands of times, but the final product was like tar in his mouth and he drank two sips before pouring the rest down the drain.

Conversation between the two became strained after that, made only out of necessity.

 _What time will you be home?_ Gladio would send a text, wondering if he needed to get dinner for himself.

_Late. Don’t wait up._

_Okay._

The times they were home at the same time, they generally ignored one another, scrolling through their phones or existing in the same space, but never truly _together_. They had become roommates more than boyfriends, and even though Ignis would still kiss Gladio goodnight, past that, there was nothing else to look forward to.

No late nights that turned into mornings. No coffee.

Gladio was starving—but he didn’t know how to ask Ignis to feed his cravings, and Ignis didn’t offer.


	2. This Morning, With Him, Having Coffee

Things came to a head when Gladio met with Noctis for training. It was a miserable November day, just warm enough that the rain turned to sleet instead of snow, and the last thing the prince’s Shield wanted to do was hold a private session with the prince, but he didn’t have any other choice. When the king asked you to do something directly, you listened.

Noctis was waiting for him in the training hall, which was new and unexpected. Usually he showed up exactly at his scheduled time or a few minutes after. Gladio went through his warm-up exercises on his own, feeling the prince’s eyes on him the entire time. He didn’t rush though, and when he had finished, he summoned his broadsword from the armiger and turned to Noctis. The prince still didn’t pull out his sword though, and stood with his arms crossed, feet firmly planted.

“What’s wrong with you?” Noctis demanded, and Gladio scoffed in disbelief.

“Good morning to you too, princess.”

“No, I’m serious.” Frowning, Gladio shouldered his weapon.

_This ought to be good._

“What the hell are you talking about?” Gladio’s voice had turned from joking to dangerous in the span of a heartbeat, but the prince of Lucis wasn’t backing down. Stepping forward, he pointed a finger into Gladio’s chest, eyes narrowing.

“Are you _trying_ to lose Specs, or are you really that oblivious?”

The question was like a punch to the gut, and Noctis saw the pain in Gladio’s expression, signaling that he had hit his mark.

“It’s none of your damn business,” Gladio snarled, suddenly defensive. His sword was at the ready before he knew what he was doing, and Noctis danced back, his own blade materializing in his hands.

“Of course it’s my business. You’re _my_ retainers—and my friends.” The prince warped to dodge a sudden swing that Gladio made towards his head, rolling into a crouch with his weapon outstretched. “You two need to kiss and make up. I’m tired of you both being miserable.”

The prince’s Shield unleashed an onslaught of strikes, each one more vicious than the last, but Noctis met each with poise, the clang of metal filling the air. They were both breathing hard, but Gladio more from anger than exertion.

“Have you really been fucking with him this whole time, or—” Gladio dropped his sword and rushed at Noctis with a roar, cutting off the question.

There was a flicker of blue, but Gladio had caught the prince by surprise and grabbed him at the ankle before he could vanish, the two of them tumbling across the floor with a ‘screech!’ The Shield grabbed Noctis by the front of his shirt when they came to a stop, shaking him like a rag doll, and for a minute the prince saw stars.

“You think I wouldn’t have fixed this already if I could?! You don’t know the _half_ of it!” Gladio was yelling, voice vibrating in the air around them. The thin ice Gladio had been treading on broke from beneath him, plunging him into a dark place that he had kept behind closed doors. His fears rushed out from behind them like a tsunami, consuming everything in its path. “I fucking _love_ him, all right? I don’t know where I messed up, but I don’t need a spoiled brat like _you_ telling me what to do!” Gladio shoved Noctis away roughly, sending him skidding. “ _FUCK_!” Gladio boomed, both hands twisting in his long hair out of frustration.

Noctis winced, pressing himself up, but he knew in the back of his mind that Gladio would never do any real damage to him, so he stabbed again, twisting the knife even deeper.

“Then do what you do best and _fight_ for him, you idiot! You’re a fucking _coward_ if you don’t.”

“ _Shut_. _Up_ ,” Gladio hissed, tone lowering to deadly levels. He got to his feet and took deliberate steps towards Noctis, veins in his forearms bulging from how hard his hands were clenched.

“Nearly four years now, and for what? Just so you can throw him aside like one of your high school flings? When are you gonna _man_ up and tell him how you really feel—”

“SHUT THE— _FUCK_ —UP!” Gladio’s scream came from deep within his chest, daemonic and painful, curdling Noctis’s blood and making his heart pound unnaturally. He held his breath as Gladio’s arm reared back, flinching his eyes closed as it flew towards his face.

There was a ‘CRUNCH!’ and a string of curse words as Gladio’s fist connected with the floor next to Noctis’s head, creating a hole in the hard wood. The prince’s stomach lurched when Gladio pulled away, hand misshapen where bones had snapped in multiple places.

Gladio was shaking so badly from the strength of his emotion and the fracture that he got lightheaded. He laid down on his back, Noctis quiet beside him, and threw his uninjured hand over his face with a groan.

“You’ve really done it now,” Noctis murmured, but his tone was apologetic, and Gladio was too focused on the throbbing in his hand to come up with a witty retort. For a few minutes the only sound was of Gladio’s uneven breaths, ragged with pain that wasn’t only physical.

“What am I going to do?” It was meant to be rhetorical, but the prince took the hand Gladio had pressed to his face and pulled it aside, looking him in the eyes.

“Show him what he means to you, Gladio.”

Gladio, meeting Noctis’s gaze, smiled wryly.

“Huh. You sort of sounded like a prince just then.”

Grinning, Noctis quipped, “Don’t get used to it.”

* * *

Gladio waited up for Ignis, delighting in his look of surprise when he found Gladio reading in bed when he got home, the table lamp casting a warm glow in the room. The advisor stood in the doorway, setting his bag down, and studied Gladio wordlessly, noting the cast on his right hand.

“What happened?” he asked, and Gladio’s heartstrings pulled taut at the genuine concern in the question.

_There’s still hope._

“I punched the floor.”

Ignis blinked several times in quick succession, and Gladio had to bite back a laugh. He didn’t think Ignis would find it as funny as he did.

“Well. That was foolish.”

“I know.”

Gladio’s ready agreement derailed whatever Ignis had planned to say next and the conversation lulled, but Gladio didn’t look away, and neither did Ignis. It seemed like Ignis might say something else, but eventually he just shook his head, stepping in and undressing to prepare for bed. While his back was turned, Gladio closed his book and set it on the nightstand.

“What time are you getting up in the morning?” Gladio inquired casually.

“Early.”

“How early?”

Ignis stopped in what he was doing to glance over his shoulder.

“Four thirty.” Gladio gave a single nod, and Ignis’s lips pursed, observing his partner’s smug expression. The prince’s Shield raised one eyebrow as if daring Ignis to ask the question that went unsaid, but Ignis turned back around, yanking a pair of pajamas out of the drawer. Meanwhile, Gladio reached over for his phone and set his alarm.

* * *

Ignis walked into the kitchen and stopped, watching Gladio as he fumbled with the coffee maker, as graceful as a behemoth in a chocobo race. His cast added an extra layer of difficulty, and Ignis could only watch for so long before his instinct to take charge overrode any desire to allow Gladio to struggle with the task he had assigned himself.

“Allow me,” Ignis offered, slipping in-between the larger man and the counter to grab the mugs he had been attempting to pick up single-handed.

“Thanks, babe.” Gladio brought his head down to brush a kiss over Ignis’s cheek, and he flinched without meaning to, shocked. Although it hurt, Gladio pretended not to notice, busying himself with his other endeavor—making breakfast.

“Feeling ambitious?” Ignis mused as he expertly moved back and forth, hands on autopilot.

“We haven’t had a morning together in a while, so I thought it would be nice to get up and help you out—since you’ve been busy and all.”

“You’ve been busy as well,” Ignis replied, and Gladio noticed the hint of resentment that he hadn’t picked up on in the past.

He would never say it out loud, but maybe Noctis was right—maybe he _was_ oblivious. When had he let his schedule take priority over his relationship? He couldn’t place _all_ the blame on Ignis. It took two to tango, and in this case, it took two people to run a relationship into the ground.

Ignis took the eggs from Gladio before he had the opportunity to drop them, humming a little as he pulled the frying pan out of the cabinet.

“When will you be home for dinner?” Gladio prodded, taking a step back to watch Ignis in his element, previously buried emotions crawling their way to the surface.

“Hmm. Eight or so, I believe—maybe a bit later. Why do you ask?”

“No reason.” Gladio played it off, but a plan was already forming in his mind. Feeling bold, he came up behind Ignis, placing his hands on the ridges of his hip bones and squeezing once before stepping away.

Ignis kept his eyes focused on the eggs frying in front of him, trying to ignore the traces of heat Gladio’s hands had burned into his skin.

But no matter how hard Ignis tried, he couldn’t shake the ghost of Gladio’s touch as he went about his day.

The ice was melting, but it had been so long that Ignis had forgotten how to swim, and he feared that he might drown if it ever thawed.

* * *

Smoke billowed out into the breezeway as soon as Ignis opened the front door, the screeching fire alarm insistent on alerting him to the danger that could be found in the kitchen. He discovered Gladiolus with a pan submerged in running water, a charred towel hanging off the end of his cast. Ignis rushed in to help, shutting off the stove as he fanned at the thick cloud of black that had him coughing.

“What—did you— _do?”_ Ignis demanded in-between gasps.

“I don’t know!”

Before Ignis had arrived, Gladio had been panicked, but now he was embarrassed _and_ panicked, which wasn’t an ideal combination. In his distress, he jerked away from the sink and smacked into Ignis, both of them falling hard onto the floor, feet knocking together.

“Gladio!” Ignis reached for his broken hand, worried that he might have landed on it in the fall, the air still hazy between them. 

“I’m all right, really—it was my fault.” Gladio waved him away, but Ignis ignored his protests. Gladio went still when he felt Ignis’s cool fingers press above his cast, like an animal ready to bolt at the first sign of danger. The prince’s advisor trailed his hand along his boyfriend’s forearm as if he were trying to relearn its shape after months without touching, outlining the feathers of Gladio’s eagle tattoo with careful attention.

“You’re sure you aren’t hurt? Whatever were you up to, anyway?”

It took a few seconds for Gladio’s brain to process that Ignis was speaking to him, and a small smile tugged at the other man’s lips when he finally gave his delayed response.

“No, I’m fine. Uh, well, I was trying to surprise you by making dinner, but that was a huge fail.” He laughed at Ignis’s bewildered expression. “I know, I know, stick to what I’m good at, right?”

“No—that’s...” Ignis’s mouth opened and closed. Gladio had never seen him rendered speechless, but he figured there was a first time for everything.

 _Way to fuck it up, Gladio,_ he thought to himself.

“That was very thoughtful, thank you.” Gladio lifted his gaze from where it had fallen to Ignis’s hand, which was now perched delicately along his biceps. “Might I suggest take out?”

There was a spark of something in Ignis’s eyes that Gladio hadn’t seen in months, and a gradual heat unfurled deep in his groin.

He knew that if he waited, the moment would be lost, so he took one deep breath and steeled himself for whatever would happen next.

_Here goes nothing._

Clutching Ignis’s wrist with his good hand, Gladio dragged him forward, crushing their mouths together with a desperate need.

For a split second, Ignis didn’t move, but then he collapsed into Gladio like a building being blown apart from the inside—dynamite lit by one simple kiss. 

The smoke was clearing now, and Ignis removed his glasses even as his eyes closed, tossing them on the floor to fling his arms around Gladio’s neck. Gladio let the weight of him push them onto the tile, fingers nimbly working to unbutton Ignis’s shirt, body already responding.

Ignis was rushing, all illusion of cool composure shattered now from the fire that Gladio had ignited in him. He unzipped Gladio’s jeans, tearing them down in one strong motion, working to free the erection that was steadily growing beneath his boxers.

“Ignis—” Gladio exhaled, and it was an apology and a request rolled into one. 

“We will speak later,” Ignis breathed the words into Gladio’s mouth with another kiss, tongue sliding against his, and Gladio forgot what he wanted to say.

It was so much, and yet, _still_ not enough. Every fiber in Gladio’s body craved Ignis in a way he had never wanted anything in his entire life. Once Ignis was shirtless, suspenders drooping over his hips, Gladio fumbled with the buttons on the man’s pants, eventually popping them off in his frustration.

“You will pay for those,” Ignis scolded, but he hummed afterwards, drawing a line with his tongue down Gladio’s chest and in-between the Shield’s legs, and Gladio knew he was more amused than angry.

He let Ignis take the lead, but his hands stayed busy, running across Ignis’s shoulders and through his hair, and _oh gods_ , down his abdomen and over his perfectly rounded ass.

 _Mine—mine—all mine_.

It took some time, and there were gasps, and murmured sweet-nothing’s amidst curses, and maybe a few tears, but Gladio relished in the fullness he felt when Ignis came inside of him, and he remembered what he had nearly forgotten.

“I love you,” Gladio whispered as Ignis turned his head, cheek pressing to the tile as they laid side-by-side.

When Ignis smiled, the man’s eyes danced, and Gladio felt his heart jumping against his ribcage—a good kind of pain.

“I love you, too.”

* * *

Gladio wandered into the café that was just across from the Citadel in the main plaza, and the barista picked her head up from where she was stooped over a drink, piling the whipped cream high on top before sliding it across the counter to a waiting customer.

She nodded at Gladio, and he gave a sheepish smile. It had been a while since he had last dropped by—not since Ignis had first stopped making him coffee, which seemed like ages ago now.

“Hey there, what can I do for you?” she asked politely.

“Actually, I was wondering if you could help me out.”

“I’ll do my best.” She was still friendly, but more cautious now, eyeing Gladio with barely concealed scrutiny. Gladio put on his most charming smile, hoping it didn’t look predatory.

“If you’ve got the time, I was hoping you could teach me the proper way to brew coffee.”

* * *

The first time Gladio made Ignis coffee, he was so anxious that he woke up a full hour before his alarm and crept out of the bedroom into the kitchen to review the instructions that Claudia, the café’s barista, had written down for him. He had bought a new Altissian press and grinder just for the occasion on her recommendation, and he carefully set out his supplies before smoothing the crumpled sheet of paper he had kept folded in his wallet for the past week.

  1. _Measure out the coffee beans! For thirty-two ounces you’ll want one half cup of beans_
  2. _Grind the beans coarsely._



Gladio carefully scooped a half cup of Ignis’s favorite blend into the new grinder, setting it to the coarsest setting and pulsing it until the coffee was roughly the size of breadcrumbs, shaking it with the lid still on to loosen it. He re-read the list twice through, leaning his weight into his hands as he stood over the press.

  1. _Pour the coffee into the press._
  2. _Heat four cups of water to boiling, letting it cool for one minute (or heat to 195 degrees)._



Using Ignis’s electric tea kettle, he filled it and fiddled with the settings before waiting impatiently, watching as the water eventually began to bubble. When it shut off, he stared down at his watch, waiting for the second hand to hit sixty exactly before pouring it into the Altissian press.

  1. _Stir the brew vigorously, using an up and down motion._
  2. _Steep for four minutes._
  3. _Plunge the press to the bottom and enjoy!_



_P.S. I know Ignis will love your surprise_

He followed Claudia’s notes to the letter, smiling at the personal touch at the bottom. Shutting off the timer on his phone as it hit zero so it wouldn’t disrupt the morning stillness, he poured the fresh coffee into his and Ignis’s mugs before taking slow steps back into the bedroom to wait.

As soon as he set Ignis’s cup down, Gladio could hear the sheets rustle.

“Gladiolus?” Ignis voice still had the roughness of sleep to it, and Gladio smiled in the dark, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Sorry if I woke you.”

Ignis’s hand found his a second later, squeezing.

“No need to apologize.” Then, “Something smells divine.”

“Oh—I made you coffee.”

There was a silence, and Gladio cough hear his heart beating so loudly that he was afraid Ignis would notice. He wished he could see his expression to know what he was thinking.

When Ignis pressed a kiss to Gladio’s knuckles, he relaxed, and Ignis reached over to pull the cord for the lamp, flooding the room with light.

“I hope it’s okay,” Gladio said, fingers twitching with nervous energy as Ignis brought the mug to his lips and sipped gingerly. Ignis’s eyelashes fluttered, long and golden in the lowlight.

“Mmm,” he moaned, making Gladio’s stomach do a back flip. “This might be some of the best coffee I’ve ever tasted,” Ignis stated.

Gladio frowned, doubt creeping in. “You don’t have to be nice just because it’s me. I can take it. Tell me what you really think.”

Ignis replied with a smirk, gulping down another swallow of the steaming liquid before carefully placing the mug on the side table. “What I really think?” Gladio nodded, holding Ignis’s gaze against his better judgement, shoulders squared.

“What I think, Gladiolus—” Ignis’s mouth caressed his name with love, “—is that I never want to drink any coffee ever again unless it is crafted by your hands. This is the sweetest birthday gift you could have given me.”

Gladio was left dumbstruck, trapped in the pale emeralds staring back at him.

He had more things planned, naturally. A full course breakfast at the café—a romp through Ignis’s favorite bookstore—that pastry shop down on Somnus Street for dessert. The grand finale had been in the works for weeks, a reservation secured at one of the nicest restaurants in Insomnia, with a surprise present to be delivered by the end of the meal, but everything was thrown out the window the moment Ignis gave him _that_ smile.

Slow, and full, and warmer than the sun’s first rays as it peeked over the Insomnian skyline.

Gladio would go to war for that smile. He’d learn how to cook, and he’d clean, and he’d rearrange his schedule so he could stay up late and get up early—just to catch a glimpse of it.

He wanted it to be the first thing he saw when he woke up, and the last thing he would see before his head hit the pillow.

He wanted to be the _reason_ Ignis smiled.

So when Ignis placed a kiss on his brow and rose to his feet to get ready for the day, Gladio numbly reached under the comforter on his side of the bed, quietly pulling out what he had been carrying around since after that fateful day where he had nearly burned their apartment to the ground.

Trembling slightly, he kneeled, waiting for Ignis to turn away from the dresser, not bothering to give him a chance to put clothes on. He preferred everything to be laid bare between them anyway.

Ignis dropped the shirt he was holding when he saw Gladio down on one knee in his boxers, a small black box in his hands.

Gladio watched the progression of emotions play out on Ignis’s face like the stages of a play. There was the initial shock, shown in the small ‘o’ of his mouth and the widening of his eyes, and there was the disbelief, gaze torn between the box and Gladio and back to the box again. When Gladio popped it open to reveal a plain white-gold band, Ignis threw both hands over the lower half of his face, just like Gladio had seen in all the movies.

_That’s a good sign, right?_

Then Ignis’s shoulders begin to shake, eyes misting over, and he felt his mouth go dry, throat constricting.

“Ignis Scientia,” Gladio began, trying to remain strong even as Ignis stepped back, unblinking. “There is no one on Eos who I would rather make coffee for, and if you’ll have me, I’ll make it from now until eternity. Please say you’ll marry me—because I don’t think there’s anything I need more in this world than your love.” Gladio’s voice cracked at the end, and suddenly they were both struggling not to cry.

Ignis started to nod his head fervently, loose hair falling into his face, and Gladio clung to the box in his hands to keep from shaking even more. “Is—is that a yes?” If Ignis didn’t say something soon, he felt he might faint from the pressure building in his head.

“Yes,” Ignis whispered through the hands still in front of his mouth. “Yes— _yes_ , a million times, yes!”

When Gladio got to his feet, Ignis rushed him, the two landing in a pile of blankets on the bed. They laughed through the tears, and Ignis rubbed their noses together, kissing both of Gladio’s cheeks.

“You are a scoundrel, are you aware of that?” Ignis said accusingly, but nothing could keep Gladio from grinning now, and he didn’t release Ignis from his embrace, even as he presented him with the ring, sliding it onto the finger on his left hand.

Ignis rested comfortably on Gladio’s chest, holding the ring up to the light so that it gleamed. Pride swelled in Gladio’s abdomen, easing the tightness in his muscles.

“I stand corrected,” Ignis murmured into Gladio’s neck, nestling in the crook of his shoulder. “ _This_ is the sweetest birthday gift you could have given me.”

They didn’t make it outside for the rest of the day, but Ignis didn’t seem to mind.

They were home.

* * *

They were married that fall on a beautifully crisp day, the weather ‘absolutely perfect’ according to Ignis’s standards. Ignis had insisted on planning everything himself, and Gladio had graciously agreed, giving his input when asked, but otherwise allowing his partner to handle the bulk of the finer details.

The only area Gladio had put his foot down was on picking what they would wear.

“I’m not wearing purple,” Gladio griped when Ignis had slid the catalogue across the kitchen counter one morning.

“First of all, it’s _eggplant_ —”

“Nope. Not doing it.” Ignis rolled his eyes, and Gladio fully expected him to have a bullet point list of reasons why he should be allowed to pick the color of his tie, the pattern of his pocket square, and the metal of his cuff links, so he cut to the chase.

“Trust me on this one, okay? You’ve done everything else.”

Ignis knew he had a point, and Gladio took a large swallow of coffee as he watched indecision knit Ignis’s eyebrows together.

“Very well,” he agreed reluctantly.

Which was how Gladio came to stand beneath the Citadel garden’s gazebo on his wedding day, dressed smartly in a tailored black tux, crimson vest accented with metallic embroidery. A golden eagle pinned his boutonniere in place, flowers of white and sunburnt orange surrounding a classic red rose.

Ignis’s suit was white, a risky choice for some, but one he pulled off with finesse. His vest and flowers matched Gladio’s, and even though Gladio had been the one to pick their outfits, it still took his breath away to see Ignis standing beneath the trestle of vines in all his finery, waiting for him.

It was a small ceremony, with immediate family only, of which there were few, and Noctis and Prompto serving as the best men. King Regis had agreed to officiate, honoring both of their houses, but for Gladio, the greatest honor was standing across from Ignis and knowing they would spend the rest of their lives together.

They exchanged vows, the cool October air contrasting with the burning passion in their words.

“Ignis, I promise to hold you—even when you might want to push me away. I vow to never turn my back on you, and to pull you under the covers, even when you tell me not to, but only because you need it. I promise I won’t hide your planner that often—just when you deserve the downtime, which is every day, if we’re being honest, so scratch that.” There were chuckles from those listening, Prompto and Noctis nodding in agreement as Ignis’s nose scrunched. “…but most importantly, I swear I’ll never let your coffee cup run dry. Not tomorrow, not ten years from now. No matter how early you wake up, or how late you go to sleep, I will be there, distracting you in the kitchen, measuring out our lives in coffee spoons. You will have my love, always, as your husband, and as your friend.”

Gladio had barely managed to reach the end of the page he held in his hand without choking up, and Ignis smiled, reciting his own vows from memory.

“Gladiolus, you may be Noctis’s Shield in the making, but you have always been mine for as long as I can remember—quick to defend my honor, often to my chagrin.” Gladio’s lips twitched, fighting off a smile. “You have always had my best interests at heart, even in the midst of burning our dinner, or forgetting the groceries, and have tolerated my horribly foul moods that few have had the privilege of witnessing, and for that, I reward you with—legal bondage.” More laughter emanated from the audience and filled the small space, and even Gladio snorted in amusement.

“All kidding aside, you render me completely and utterly helpless, to the point that I can scarcely breathe without craving your approval—my only weakness, and my greatest joy. For _this,_ I grant you the rare honor of preparing my coffee, made all the better with your love. At one time, I endured the symptoms of withdrawal brought on by the absence of your affections, and it proved to nearly be the death of me. Henceforth, I vow to never subject myself to such a withdrawal ever again, whether it be from you or caffeine, and will give you all the love this heart can hold, as your lover and closest confidant, from now until death, and whatever lies beyond.”

There was sniffling coming from where Prompto and Noctis stood on either side of the grooms, and Gladio was relieved to know he wasn’t the only one who was teary-eyed. Even King Regis’s vision had glossed over, and Gladio exchanged rings with quivering fingers, listening as the monarch intoned the final words to complete the ceremony.

“With the power vested in me as the King of Lucis, I, Regis Lucis Caelum, pronounce you legally wed. You may kiss.”

Gladio took both of Ignis’s hands in his, touching their foreheads together before kissing his groom deeply, savoring the taste of him. Although it was in plain view of their guests, the gesture was intended only for Ignis. Gladio’s heart was beating so fast that he felt it might burst, unable to contain all the happiness he felt. Prompto and Noctis cheered enthusiastically while others applauded, but Gladio only had eyes for one person.

 _My_ _husband_.

It had a nice ring to it.

He wanted to remember Ignis this way forever—the easy upturn of his mouth, a slight flush across his cheeks, and the gentle pressure of his palms, skin rubbing against skin.

They eventually exited the gazebo, hand-in-hand, and went directly into the reception, which was also held in the garden. Ignis had tasked several of the Citadel’s finest cooks in creating their menu, and there were plenty of puff pastries and croissants to choose from in addition to more savory roasted skewers of meat and bowls of ramen.

It was an eclectic mix, mainly because Gladio and Ignis had differing tastes when it came to cuisine, but there was one thing they had both agreed on—the coffee bar. They had even managed to convince Claudia to work the event for them, and it was their first stop— right after Prompto finished taking several pictures of the newlyweds.

“I put something strong in there,” Claudia explained with a wink, and Gladio held his glass full of spiked coffee aloft to Ignis.

“Cheers—to us,” he toasted.

“Cheers,” Ignis echoed, and the edges of their cups clinked, the alcohol buzzing warmly in the backs of their throats as they took their first sips of coffee as a married couple—

The first of many more to be shared over countless mornings, the warmth of their beverages only second to the warmth inside their hearts.

**Author's Note:**

> Awesome fanart by frecklef0x [ here](https://frecklef0x.tumblr.com/post/186268588712/got-the-wifeys-approval-on-chapter-two-so-the)
> 
> More awesome fanart by aceflorins [here](https://aceflorins.tumblr.com/post/186324979228/so-i-read-youre-my-cup-of-coffee-by)
> 
> “This morning, with her, having coffee” – Johnny Cash, when asked to describe paradise
> 
> “I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.” – The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, by T.S. Eliot
> 
> “More of You” by Josh Groban is a perfect Gladnis song for this fic.
> 
> We are all the barista, rooting for Gladio and Ignis and wishing them all the best. 
> 
> If you enjoyed this fic, let me know in the comments (I will respond to every single one)! I love hearing from my readers, and it always inspires me to write more. Also, I welcome any and all fanart. Thank you for checking this out!


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